A/N: Hello lovelies, I hope this time I didn't take too long to update this. I have some questions from reviewers I need to answer though, so if you don't wanna read through it just go to the quote and start reading this massively long chapter. I'm very excited about what you think of it! Drama incoming!
To the guest who was confused about the timeline and everyone's age: I understand the confusion, so let me clear it up for you. Yes, by now Sakura is 19 and Sasuke's 30, though since they are currently in the early spring it'll soon be Sakura's 20th birthday, and then Sasuke's 31st. In the last chapter I said that Hinata had been 19 and Naruto 17 when they married, and the twins they had were born almost twenty years from now. Say it's been 16 years, which makes them 13-14 when they married, which makes Naruto around 33 years old, which is only 3 years more than Sasuke. I don't think it's that much of a difference. In all honesty, all the ages are switched and all over the place in the fanfic, so it doesn't bother me that much. I tried making it as historically accurate as possible, although no one's perfect even if I spend all day and night researching. Women, however, did marry young back then, so that Sakura was 15 and Sasuke 11 years older when they married shouldn't be that strange. I hope this cleared it up for you and for everyone else.
The same guest asked why Itachi didn't like Karin, and why Kabuto poisoned Karin during the pregnancy. Well, no, there's not really a reason and I'm not going to expand or make a big deal out of Itachi not liking Karin. Maybe it was because she was particularly obsessed with Sasuke, you could say, and Itachi never liked the constant following him around like a puppy. Go figure. I don't really care about their relationship back then and I'm not going to talk about it in the fanfic more than I have already because what I'm interested in is the focus on the baby's death and its implications; its connection to the things that are unfolding now in the story. So, don't worry about it too much. As with Kabuto, I'm only going to say that Orochimaru didn't realise a child could be a better weakness than a dead child and a suicidal wife lmao. JUST KIDDING. But I can't give too much away, just know that it will all be explained eventually.
To the guest who doesn't know what Sakura's hair color is anymore, let me tell you. Since this fanfic is set in a real, historical and mostly accurate time period, I decided that being born with pink hair is not really something realistic, you know. She has really light blonde hair, kinda sand-coloured (a bit lighter than Temari's). Though (as described in a previous chapter) when the early light hits it just right, it looks a soft pink which I've seen happen to some people in real life. Idk, I hope nobody's too mad about this.
To the guest who's tired of Karin's role in this story: me too. Lmao. But I have nothing against her, and she's important, so just hang on a bit longer. I'm trying to get all this done quickly without having to rush the story too much.
Thank you everyone for all your kind and amazing reviews. They pushed me to finish this in a shorter amount of time, so I appreciate that (I also appreciate that guest who appreciated the chapter's title, I spend some time thinking them through, so you are also appreciated homie). Also as a side note, I imagine Sasuke with the hairstyle described in the forest like in a drawing done by Dymx, one of my favourite sasusaku artists (if you know which one I'm talking about, props to you ;)). I also imagine that Sakura wearing that outfit by the end of the chapter looks like what prince Eric from The Little Mermaid wears. At least the colours do. Rip.
Enjoy!
Like a sword, a word can wound or kill, but as long as one does not touch the blade, the sword is no more than a smooth piece of metal. Someone who knows the qualities of a sword does not play with it, and someone who knows the nature of words does not play with them.
Miyamoto Musashi (1584-1645).
Sakura remembers when she was younger, though the memories are only slightly blurry, her father's smile as he watched her handling a tinier version of his own sword. She remembers him leaning against the frame of their home's wood-covered engawa. Their back porch wasn't as big or as prestigious as the ones in the castle where she lives now, but it was home. It was his home; her home; their home. It was her mother braiding her long hair as they sat on the edge and talked, the water in the small pond making for background noise as she trained alongside her father, and the only place where she had ever seen her parents share a kiss, only once in the quiet of one afternoon.
She remembers all the times she tripped and fell and hurt herself, only to be reprimanded by her mother for opening her otherwise immaculate pale skin—suitors in the future wouldn't like scars on her body, she would remind her. But Sakura was always intrigued by the art of the sword, and would always go to her father behind Mebuki's back to keep perfecting her young skills. Women in the field of the Samurai only knew about fighting enough to defend their home, but not much else. There was a time when Sakura would spend days working and trying to learn everything; she wanted it all.
When her father died, the news brought down her enthusiasm for learning much more drastically. The training sessions stopped, and she buried her small, hand-crafted sword under several metres of dirt in her backyard one day, in a fit of rage and with tears blurring her vision. It's probably still there now, for no one but herself knew of that day.
Sakura still remembers, though, most of the days in which she learnt under her father's watchful gaze and boisterous, contagious laughter. She remembers as she kicks a pebble on the ground, walking in no definite direction but rather following the familiar sound of a sword cutting through the air up ahead.
She had been planning on going to Kabuto's cottage, and would normally surround the forest in order to get there faster, not go through it as she's doing now. Not only does this way take longer, it also is filled with a heavy air full of humidity, vines that can make her trip, and fertile, damp soil that could dirty her rather long dresses in a heartbeat. However, she hadn't been expecting her husband to be training so early in the morning—just like she hadn't been expecting his mere presence in the castle after going out for several meetings in the last two weeks.
That sound is unmistakable, and he's indeed training inside the large, overwhelmingly rich forest within the castle's walls.
So her mind takes her back as she gingerly walks through the foliage, her eyes looking down on the ground as she remembers every memory and every moment spent with her father, wearing a simple, over the knee, cotton-woven yukata in the heat of the early spring morning. Her geta dig into the dirt with every step she takes, and she wonders if she's going to have to throw them away as soon as she gets back to the castle—she hadn't picked tall ones this time, and the added weight of her body is making her soles get stuck from time to time in the wet soil.
As the sounds from her husband grow stronger, she knows she's nearing the place where he trains, and slows down her steps so as to not alert him in the middle of it, as she has done before. Because if she keeps surprising him while he's wielding his sword, she won't be so lucky one day.
It's only a few more minutes before she's met with the first glimpse of her husband through the trees in the distance, holding his polished chokutō in his left hand. As she nears him, she makes out the finer details. He's wearing black-coloured hakama, the wide pants a signature of his army of Samurai. His long-sleeved, black shirt is hanging from his obi, his chest exposed as he practices against the bark of a tree. This time, as with so many others she has seen, he moves with grace around the clearing of grass where he stands.
She takes a few more steps and stops two trees away from the clearing on which he stands.
His hair, now probably reaching past his shoulders and almost touching the middle of his back, is tied up in a messy bun with his bangs framing the sides of his face, and she wonders if it's time for her to tell him to get a haircut. Summer is approaching, and having all that hair during battle could only prove to be a hassle.
On the other hand, as she watches him take a break and reach for his canteen of water, only to lean down and pour it over his nape after he drinks enough, the hair length he has now does him no worse than any other. If only, it does him better than the one he had when she met him.
He straightens up again and throws the empty canteen to the side, and she wants to look away for a moment as he stretches. Not only is she invading his privacy, but she's close enough to notice the way the toned muscles in his abdomen flex and move with him, and it suddenly feels wrong to just stare like she is. Unabashedly, without shame, and it it's not right for her to look at him this way. Even if he is her husband, she feels an inexplicable amount of heat pool up to her face, and takes a step back. As if in slow motion, her heightened senses catch the snap of a tree branch as her shoe touches the ground.
Sasuke stills.
She looks away and hides behind the thick bark of a tree only so as to control her raging, improper train of thoughts, and prays her husband couldn't have possibly heard her misshap.
Why did she even come to begin with? The memories of her father with a sword, teaching her the ways of the sword as all Samurai come to know, led her here, but she had been originally heading to Kabuto's house. What had she been expecting to find? Of course her husband was going to be here, in the forest he so loves training under the early rays of light. What had she thought she would do? Interrupt his training and say hi? Ask him how his meetings have gone? Ask him if they were actually going to war, and if his empire was about to fall at the snap of a finger? No. None of these could bring any good to the conversation or their relationship.
The last time she had seen him and talked to him, the conversation had ended with the realisation of something foreboding coming around the corner of their lives, and the quiet of their morning in bed had been broken. She doesn't want to keep doing that. So why, out of all places and times, had she come to him during his training? All the times she has done so it has ended in disaster—each and every one, without fail.
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes only to open them a moment later as she makes up her mind. She has nothing to say to Sasuke, and there's nothing that could ever come out of it, so she decides to go back. If she walks back where she came from and rounds the forest as she usually does, she could get to Kabuto's house without Sasuke ever finding out of her silly mistake (or her ogling, for that matter).
Sakura sighs, and looks around the tree to see if Sasuke's back at it with the sword, unknowing of her panicked state or her presence.
When she looks behind her and toward the clearing, there's no one there.
A pang of anxiety hits her chest as she freezes, looking frantically for any sign of her husband where she had left him, only to find nothing more than the sound of birds and the silence of the forest. She looks left and right to no avail for a little under ten seconds before she gives up, knowing she's not going crazy and he is, in fact, not here anymore.
Alarmed, she turns around with the intent to walk away and follow her improvised plan before it's too late, only to find that Sasuke's already in front of her, amused eyebrow raised and sword hanging low from his hand. He's looking down at her from his height, less than a metre away, and it takes her by complete surprise.
She instinctively takes a step back, meeting the rough bark of the tree instantly.
"Sakura," he announces, as if this is his morning greeting to her.
She closes her eyes tight because, first of all, his proximity to her after she had been looking at him in a different light from what is the norm is not helping her in the least, and second of all, she closes her eyes to make him go away; somehow, and possibly not possible at all. But she tries, and she only opens her eyes and gives up trying to rid herself of his image once he calls her again, this time even closer as he takes a step.
And she hopes she looks unbothered and not nervous at all at being caught when she looks up at him, trying to blink her worried thoughts away.
"Sasuke-kun, good morning," she says, her voice not as wobbly as she had thought it would be, though still rough from disuse. "Were you training just now?"
He gives her a look, and she can read it clearly. Do you think of me as stupid? It says it all over his face before he speaks, and she doesn't blame him for thinking something like that at the moment. Obviously he had been training, but she can't let him know she knows.
"What are you doing here?" He asks.
"Me?" She asks back, looking away and toward the trees around them, motioning with one hand to the flora decorating the expanse of the place. "I was just taking a morning stroll through the forest. It is very quiet at this hour, after all."
She thinks he buys it when she feels him take one step back, but she understands when she looks back at him. He has only taken a step back in order to look down at her attire and her shoes, all muddy and dirty from the soil. His scrutinizing, hard stare down her body only makes her feel self-conscious, and then he looks back up into her eyes and clicks his tongue in disapproval.
She wears a thin yukata, he notices, strapped closed by the help of a thin sash around her midsection. It's of a light pink, something fitting for someone like her, but not fitting enough for a place like this. She's lying.
"Poor choice of clothes for a walk through the forest," he points out. "Should I be concerned with your attendants?"
Sakura shakes her head adamantly; she doesn't need to drag the nice people who help her dress everyday into this.
"There is no need. I simply did not know I was to come here when I got dressed."
If he believes her, she can't tell. He just nods at her explanation before something like confusion crosses his face in succession.
"Why did you, then?"
"No specific reason, I suppose."
She wishes he drops the topic, but to her chagrin and surprise, he only keeps trying to unwrap the thin sheet draped around her lie—something peculiar for Sasuke to do; it's unlike him to prob in this manner, especially with her, which only catches her attention even more.
"Your footwear is nothing but garbage by now. Surely, you knew coming here would cause that to happen," he says, taking the step he had taken forward before once more. "Why did you come here?"
At a loss of words, she only looks up at him and hopes he will shake his head and choose to ignore her. In this moment, staring into his curious eyes, her mind is at a crossroad and she has nothing to say; nothing to come up with to excuse herself from the heat of his body; nothing to use so she can literally and figuratively sidestep this tense questionnaire and leave. So she stays quiet, but since this is the last thing he expects her to do, it only means he arrives at a rather odd—but rather true—conclusion.
"Were you..." He trails off, his eyebrows drawn toward the middle and his lips pursed. "Were you watching me?"
It's a strange and disturbed look the one that crosses Sasuke's face before it morphs into plain and utter amusement, with a hint of disbelief. And she's, apart from being caught red-handed, now also embarrassed at her actions. Although somewhat true, there is no need for him to know that.
"No! Not at all!" She exclaims, moving her hands in front of her from side to side, which only proves to be for nothing as she watches him sigh and put his sword away; safe and secured in the case attached to his thick obi.
She knows he will walk away now, if only from the steps he takes back and the turn of his head, and she has the sudden urge to reach and pull him back. But should she even keep him here? Should she let him go train again and forget this conversation ever happened?
She realises it would only make this just another one of the many, many failed meetings she has had with him; the many failed attempts at maintaning a good, solid conversation with her husband of four years now. And for once, she would like to end it on a good note, no tears or lies or screams or disappointed looks. Just a smile, a look, and soft words being exchanged.
If she has to open up about her past and reveal to him the true reason of why she ended up in the forest, looking at him train for a good five minutes only to regret it and get caught a second later, then so be it. She's tired of doing otherwise, cowering, and letting him walk away.
With a few steps to catch up to him, she watches as he turns with the clear intent to leave, and touches his forearm. "Wait."
It's gentle, and the touch doesn't startle him or make him jump and grab her by the collar as he has done in the past, alarmed by the possibility of an intruder, and for this she is glad. He does stop, and she takes her hand away only because she notices how his shoulders tense up at the unexpected action.
He doesn't look back at her, but she thinks it's better this way just so she can collect her thoughts and speak without having to look into his black, indescribable stare.
"I came here because I heard you training. I heard the way you moved your sword against the trees, through the air, and it reminded me of something from my past."
There is a pause, and his shoulders relax a second later, his weight shifting from one leg to the other. "Of what?"
Sakura hesitates, but breathes out the words as soon as she hears him take a ridiculously long breath through the straight bridge of his nose.
"My father," she says, but now it's nothing louder than a murmur and she's no longer looking at Sasuke's broad shoulders, but at the ground. "He used to train me when I was younger. He wanted to teach me the art of the sword, but he passed away after a few months."
She has told him about her father's death during the war, of how he burnt until her mother could barely recognise him, so there's no need to say that again.
When he doesn't answer or give any thoughts to her story, she clears her throat and keeps talking—if anything, to fill in the suffocating silence around them.
"My mother never approved of me learning such things at a young age. I already knew the basics that every girl is taught, but I always wanted to learn more," she explains, finding her voice stable and her eyes dry, and wondering when exactly was the time when she stopped crying at the mention of her father. "I was on my way to Yakushi Kabuto's house, yet listening to you reminded me of my father. I guess I came here without even realising it."
Sakura takes a deep breath, and bows slightly even though he can't see her right now.
She has tried to mend and fix the situation, but he hasn't done much to help her in the process; maybe because he does not care, or because he has no idea there is a problem with their dynamics.
In any case, trying any further would only tire her out and seek the shelter of her room in defeat.
"I'll be going now, then. I apologise for the trouble."
Sasuke turns and watches as she starts to walk away in the opposite direction of the castle. He wouldn't have grabbed her if she had headed to the confines of their home, but she hadn't. And he knows the path she will take after she apologises and walks away; he knows it quite well, which is why he can't help himself at her ignorance in the matter. She knows not of his new terms and conditions, so he will let her know this one time, and hope she doesn't cause a scene or object at the news—a long stretch, but a risk he's willing to take.
She takes two steps before she feels a pressure pulling her back. He's the one grabbing her arm this time, pulling her back with force and making a gasp come out of her throat at the sudden move from his part.
She tries to look at his face, but he has her in such a position that she can't look at all. Her arm is locked behind her—although he makes it so as to not hurt in the least, it's not particularly comfortable—and he's on her side, coming closer so as to almost breath into her ear as he speaks.
"Listen to this for I will only say it once," he warns, the low timbre in his voice bringing goosebumps to her skin. "You have no business with Yakushi Kabuto anymore."
Sakura's snapped from her thoughts by this, something she hadn't expected at all, and the goosebumps leave her arms almost immediately.
No business with Kabuto anymore? What does that mean, and why is he telling her?
Confusion turns into annoyance, into anger, into disbelief. Since when has this been established? And without so much as her say in the matter, to rub salt in the wound.
"My business with him does not concern you," she bites back without the same amount of venom in her tone, yet she still feels his grip on her tighten ever-so-slightly.
"Mind your place, Sakura," he rasps out, and she feels how her arm rubs against his chest as he gets closer to keep her from struggling. "You are not to see him anymore, and that is final."
"On whose orders?" She asks, looking to the side but not managing to look up into his face. Still, she feels her blood boil at the audacity of this man. He has complete and utter control of her actions and they both know this, but he should also be more considerate and realise this is, in no possible way, a fair call. She speaks as if she can't stop the words. "Yours?"
Sasuke's grip loosens at that, and he stills beside her.
Not taking a single breath, she waits for him to react to what she's saying and answer her. Is this why he had been called a few days ago? Is this what Sasuke had told him, to stay away from her? To forbid him from seeing her like he is doing to her now. He hadn't seemed to have a problem in all the months she has been learning under Kabuto's teachings, apart from when she had planned for it to happen, so why now? Now, when she was so close to finding out the truth about the oil, Karin, and everything that concerns his unborn child. It's all been for him, not for her own amusement, and yet he forbids her from seeing Kabuto now of all times.
Sakura doesn't bother struggling. She sighs and knows that he's still unmoving beside her, and she swallows all the questions she wants to ask and all that she wants to say solely for the sake of their marriage.
Sasuke has spoken. And as much as she isn't on the same page with his sporadic decision, she must adapt and silently agree.
"Please, let go," she whispers, and it's only a whisper, but he complies immediately.
And as soon as his hands let go, she turns around and faces him, looking up at him with betrayal in her eyes. She won't confront him, but she will display all that she's thinking through her eyes. All that rings in her head is why; why now? Why this? Why all of a sudden? Why, when she's so close to the truth? Why, when Kabuto is the only person she is relatively close to in the entirety of this immense, lonely castle?
All that rings in his head is why; why is she talking to him like this, looking at him with malice in her usually innocent, bright eyes? Why is she talking back, raising her voice at him in a way she has never done before? Why, when all he wants to do is protect her? Why, when he's her husband and she has told him she will devote her life to him until the end of time?
The look she gives him is enough to stun him into silence for a hundred years.
Is this connection between her and his healer really that strong? Is it really, then, just a professional relationship like she has told him before? He trusts her, and she would never lie to him like this, yet it makes him doubt with the uncertainty of her past actions.
In the chaos, he somehow finds his voice.
"There is nothing more to say," he breathes, watching as she shuts her mouth in resignation after she processes his command. "You will stand by any decision of mine."
Sakura doesn't want to disrespect her husband, not in the least and not in a million years. He has his faults here and there and she has acknowledged that, and she would never ever disrespect him so blatantly to his face—but she's never really been given a good enough reason to. Not until now, at least, when he utterly goes over her head and breaches her trust, only to warn her and command her to stay quiet right after he never tried to talk to her about it in the first place.
"Why?" She asks because it's all she wants to know. Out of all the questions swimming in her head, this is the only one she wants answered. If he could only give her that, she would calm down and forgive all this nonsense.
And he does, he tells her everything in one short sentence, true to himself, and hopes that this will be enough.
It's not. It never is.
"Why?" He emphasizes, shaking his head and looking away from her gaze for a moment, only to look back at those questioning eyes a second later. "Because I can't trust anyone anymore. Any person but me could be a danger to you; could be behind all this bullshit, and I am not willing to risk it."
Sakura's left with her mouth open, astonished as to what has just happened.
It's as if, by some twisted work of faith, they can never have a normal, nice conversation that doesn't end on a bad note.
"That's why," Sasuke finishes, reaching for the long sleeves of his shirt and pulling his arms through them once again, adjusting his obi so as to close the shirt correctly. He repeats the words he had told the man during the meeting he'd called a few days past. "Unless there is a medical emergency, you are not to visit him again."
Sakura knows this to be true, and she knows Sasuke has his best intentions in making this abrupt decision—but it is that: abrupt. Too abrupt, and she has to voice out her concerns because he will never know what she really thinks if she doesn't—though it's with less anger and more understanding to her tone now.
"Sasuke, I appreciate you trying to protect me, but I do think this may be too extreme. Yakushi-san is the only person I interact with in this enormous castle, and sometimes you are gone for days at a time. I have learnt so much from his teachings, and I thought I would be doing that for longer."
Sasuke regards her for a long time before he talks, and it's with a much calmer but firmer tone that he does so, mimicking her own.
"I am sure all that he has taught you so far is enough. As for the rest, I will do my best to accommodate you in my schedule whenever possible."
In his schedule, as if she's just a burden he needs to take care of; another one of his chores and meetings to get over with; something to finish quickly in order to get other, more important things done in time.
She knows this is not what he means at heart, but it is what it sounds like, and so it is what she responds to in turn.
"Shall I make an appointment, then?"
She sees the way his jaw tightens as he bites down, watching as her eyes lose their child-like spark in a matter of seconds, but he otherwise ignores her rhetorical question.
"I will take a bath now," he announces, moving past her and walking away toward the castle not a second later. "Dress appropriately this time, and meet me by the stables at first light tomorrow."
.
.
.
Konoha's center is always filled with the sound of people moving about, vendors yelling to promote their products, and children playing on the busy streets without a care in the world. It's seldom quiet, not even at night.
Konoha, apart from having the Samurai, higher class, and Shogun stationed right in the thick of it, is a rather tranquil and unproblematic village. Here, where everything is controlled and overseen by the leader of the nation, there is barely any crime. A minor robbery here and there, and nothing else.
Resources are plentiful, the forests and rivers are endless, the ever-growing crops on the sides of town never cease their production, and the animals are bred and slaughtered as with in any other place (or more so). All in all, a prosperous society that is content with where they live and how they do so. Generally speaking, most villages in the nation of Fire carry with them no issues or fights, a high rate of crime, or anything that would bring down a nation or spark forth doubt in a leader.
Kabuto thinks this is the way it's supposed to be for his plans; where everything seems perfect and there is no possible forthcoming of what's to happen; where there are no signs anywhere about what is to come next.
It's just the way it's supposed to be.
Unfortunately, things don't always go this smoothly, and there are obstacles he needs to overcome in order to move forward. Things change, people adapt, the world keeps turning—it's just the order of things.
He knows this, so when he's walking down one of the more deserted, off-center streets of Konoha, he doesn't feel an ounce of remorse as he finds what he's been looking for since he went outside the castle with the excuse of getting more supplies.
He stops the familiar trek when he nears the small house enough to see an older woman arranging some flowers along the walkway to her abode. She finishes her task in less than ten seconds and, as soon as she turns around and sees him, she looks around the street to spot any unwanted onlookers.
Then, she ushers him inside her house like so many times before, sliding shut the door with a little too much force than necessary in her dainty fingers.
She turns to him and offers a nervous smile, shaky from her elder years.
"Yakushi-san, thank you for coming. You're right on time today," her sweet, tiny voice reaches his ears, and he only nods like the professional he is.
"I apologise if I took longer than anticipated. How is my patient feeling?" He asks, but he's already walking toward the child's room as is customary of him.
"He has been warm all over for at least two days. I followed your instructions but he doesn't seem to be getting better, and you were not coming so I did not know what to do and I-"
Yui, a frail and small woman in her late sixties, stops herself and takes a shaky, deep breath before she wipes the unspilled tears from her already watery eyes. Kabuto gives her a sympathetic smile and nods, understanding the importance of this specific meeting.
Haru, her six-year-old grandson, sleeps with several blankets over him on his bed when Kabuto enters the room. He approaches him and touches his neck, his forehead, takes the pulse of his heartbeat, and goes back to Yui's side. Haru's illness is rather internal, making his stomach sensitive and unable to process food like everyone else should, and sometimes these matters can be fragile.
"This is just a reaction to his delayed medication. Nothing to worry about, as long as he sticks to his strict regimen."
Yui doesn't look too convinced, but she still nods and watches as Kabuto takes out a rather large satchet tied around the sash at his waist. He hands it to her, but she only frowns at the difference in size from what he normally gives her.
"Excuse me, but this is rather big. Is he in need of a larger dosis?"
Kabuto shakes his head and adjusts his glasses, preparing for yells and upset shoves from the old lady soon enough.
"No, that is not the problem. I know your grandson's condition can only be treated—though not cured—with my exotic blend of herbs. This bag should last you a total of four weeks, instead of the usual two I give you," he explains, and sighs as if feeling deep sorrow. "I'm afraid I will not be able to visit any longer due to a change in plans. I advise you find a new healer who can recreate what only I could."
Yui stares at him for a long time during which her frown deepens. She shakes her head in confusion, looking from the satchet to him several times.
"Whatever is it you mean? What change in plans?" When he doesn't answer, she comes closer and grabs him by the collar of his cloak. Though smaller in size, her trembling fingers manage to yank him forward and shake him in her stupor. "Answer me boy!"
"Your daughter is no longer needed for her services at the castle. Taking care of her son while she's bound to work there constantly was only a favour in exchange of what I asked of her."
The tea. Administering the tea to Sakura biweekly, though Yui doesn't—and will not—come to know, had been her daughter's job. But not anymore.
"This is my superior's decision. I am unable to do anything about it, so please understand."
If before she was on the brink of crying, now there is already snot running down her wrinkled nose at the news. News that bring doom with them. Without her daughter and his help, how could a small woman like this get any other help in this town? The only healer in town could never do what Kabuto has been accomplishing for years now.
But getting those herbs and making that antidote has cost him enough trips outside of Konoha, and he no longer has to employ his time on this task.
Yui reaches to shake him again by his cloak, but he swiftly moves away, gives one last look at the slumbering Haru, and walks out of the house and away from the place without another word.
He hears Yui's screams and cries down the street way after he has disappeared. Things change, people adapt, the world keeps turning—it's just the order of things.
.
.
.
When Sakura awakes from a restless night of sleep—or lack thereof—the first thing she takes note of is that Sasuke's not by her side on the bed. She rubs at her eyes and yawns as she sits by the edge of the bed. The second thing she realises is that the sun hasn't come out yet, and the sound of water coming from behind the closed door of the bathroom can only mean her husband is taking a bath.
Before she gets up and wakes fully, the last thing she realises is that Sasuke expects her to go to stables at the first light of the day, which is bound to happen in a few minutes.
Normally, she would take a bath right after her husband, but she doesn't see the point in doing so if she's going to be full of horse smell and grass by the time she's done with the animals.
She enters the wardrobe, looking through her clothes for something suitable to wear at the stables—not that she wishes to go, but it's either this or the rest of the day spent looking at the gardens, without much to do now that she's banned from talking to her mentor anymore. Her only decent set of pants have been completely ruined from the last time she was at the stables, and it's no wonder—her clothes are nothing but fine silk or delicate cotton. Her only other pants are still washing from the last time she was in the gardens with Kabuto.
With a thought, she turns and stares at the less finer, but stronger clothes her husband is set to wear. As Shogun, Samurai, and leader of an entire nation, the material of his fabrics is nothing less than striking; stunning, even. And it's stronger than hers, way stronger and way more adept for the horrors of wars. Rougher, and more suitable for the stables than any of her delicate kosode, much less her yukata.
Yes, way more suitable indeed, she thinks, putting on a navy pair of his many hakama and a long-sleeved, white shirt as a top. As soon as she closes the shirt over her front with one of his thin obi, she stands in the middle of the closet as she hears the water moving in an adjacent room. It could only mean her husband is getting out of the bathtub, but she can't help but feel silly in this attire—his attire, no less.
She takes off the obi around her waist and fixes the length of his long pants with her hands, gets out of the closet, and slides open one of the doors on the walls of their room. She opens one of her drawers, finding her pristine, organised sashes all placed inside. She settles for a red, relatively thick obi and ties the shirt closed with it around her midsection, going from the bottom of her breasts to the top of her bellybutton. At least with this on she doesn't feel as silly or out of place by the out-of-norm outfit she has chosen.
And that's how Sasuke finds her as he slides open the door of their bathroom and steps out, towel around his waist and long hair dripping down his back. His dark eyes find her figure almost immediately, making his hand hesitate on the door for a few seconds after that—for the few seconds he tries to take in this new update in the grand scheme of things. Sakura, dressed with his training clothes, tying one of her obi to her back. Sakura, with her short stature, somehow being able to wear his long and wide pants without cleaning the floor with them. Sakura, with navy pants, a white shirt, and a red sash, representing her clan by wearing its colours like she has seldom done before.
Sasuke takes a minute, walks past her, and enters the closet without a word.
"I'm ready," she suddenly says, moving her fingers through her straight hair so as to accommodate it a little. "I will be waiting by the stables, if you do not mind."
If he takes note of the more formal tone she's talking to him with, she can't tell. All she's met with is silence, so she takes it as her cue to leave.
Outside, the sky is still cloudless and the sun is still hiding behind the horizon, just like it felt it would in the early morning.
Sakura walks toward the stables and ignores the glances her maids give her, the horrified stares they share between each other when they think she's not looking. It's just an outfit, she repeats in her head as she exits the castle, it's just an outfit.
As she walks outside through the back door, she takes her time navigating around the gardens toward the stables. If Kabuto's house is past the forest and to the left, the stables are right before the forest and to the right. There is just no way for her to pay him a visit now, not when Sasuke's almost done getting ready and has explicitly told her not to barely a day before.
It's not as he thinks.
Sakura doesn't want to see Kabuto, not really. But she does want to know more about the past, and about what he may or may not be planning. Or about what someone else he knows may be planning. Or about what really happened to Sasuke's first wife by the end of her pregnancy.
More importantly, she wants to check if the oil extract has decreased in amount since the last time she saw it a few weeks back. This is what she wants, not to see Kabuto himself, but to see what he has done since she last checked her hypothesis.
In terms of her learning, she's well aware that the knowledge she has about the human body and different herbs and plants is enough to last her a lifetime. She's not angry that Sasuke has personally put an end to her learning, per se, because she has already learnt about medicine plenty more than she ever thought she would in her life. What bothers her is that he went behind her back to do it, and didn't think to talk to her about it first. What also bothers her is that now she has no way of checking what she needs to check; of finding out what she needs to find out.
She'll just have to work around it. The least that she can do is check if the oil has decreased, which doesn't particularly require Kabuto's help to do so—so, really, she wouldn't be breaking Sasuke's orders.
She arrives at the stables, and Sasuke does so five minutes later.
"Do you wish to ride the same horse?" He asks as he walks inside the stables, moving around and probably taking out the horse she had ridden last time.
Sakura stands still in front of the small building, hands joined in front of her and eyes downcast at the ground.
"Sakura," she hears the voice closer to her now, and lifts her eyes to see how the same horse is out, and Sasuke is holding it by his spare set of reins already.
"Yes, that is fine," she finally answers, locking eyes with the large animal and regretting the act almost immediately. It's as if they know she's scared and uncomfortable around them, for it looks like it feels the same toward her.
She watches Sasuke nod and spare her a strange glance, as if decoding whatever she's thinking and feeling at the moment. Probably, all he's doing is waiting for her to get on at last.
She slowly rounds the horse and stands beside it, taking a deep breath before she hoists herself up by the saddle. It's not easy, but she would rather struggle for three days and nights before she allows him to help her; showing weakness, showing she's not capable—not something acceptable with the status she tries to uphold.
When her feet are where they need to be and she's holding the extra reins in place for her only, Sasuke starts walking. For a moment, just before he turns around and takes the first steps, it looks like he wants to say something. But he doesn't, and she ignores it because, most likely, she didn't see anything close to that.
This time, when the horse starts moving under her, she doesn't panic or jump at the movement. This time, she loosely holds her reins and looks at the landscape around her; feels the light breeze caress her legs under the sleeves of trousers that are not hers, and forgets that the man in front of her has stabbed her in the back after she has taken every opportunity to share all that she hears and knows with him, for the better of the nation.
As with last time, they enter the forest and go through it before turning around and toward the stables again.
In the entirety of the walk, neither Sasuke or herself have spoken one single word, which is why, as they near the stables more and more and she's so close to leaving the place, she doesn't understand why he opens his mouth and talks. If anything, she's confused, and intrigued as to why he's trying to make small talk. It seems he always amazes her when she least expects it—or wants it.
"You're wearing my clothes," he says, and she doesn't know if it's a rhetorical statement or something genuine from plain curiosity. Of course, she goes with the former, and answers him against all possible odds.
"I thought husband and wife should share everything, including clothes."
"I thought you had everything you needed," he retorts, looking behind him at the choice in attire and judging it for the first time that day and the second in the last two days. The difference is that Sakura doesn't feel self-conscious now, no. She feels the anger she has been bottling up almost coming out, if not for her impeccable self-control and survival instincts. Now that she has had the entire night to think over their argument the day before, she wants to tell him more than just what she thinks, but what is right and wrong. Still, she holds it in for the sake of leaving his suffocating presence as soon as possible.
"I have no pants that would fit something as crude as riding a horse. At least, not for a woman like me."
Sasuke looks like he's going to comment on her definition of crude, but doesn't at the last moment. Instead, he nods and walks the rest of the way to the stables in silence.
Tying the horse to a nearby pole, he takes the necessary steps to reach his wife and holds up one of his hands, hoping she will accept it.
His wife looks down at him, and it is so unlike anything he has ever seen. She, with her straightforward and untamable attitude, her unique and distinguished way around him, is so unlike any of his past wives.
They never raised their voices at him, or spoke out about what they thought or felt, or tried to teach him how to pleasure them in bed—because why would they, when they had never really complained? When they had just let him do as he pleased, touch as he pleased, say as he pleased, and stayed complacent.
They never looked at him with fire in their eyes, the way Sakura's doing right now, or refused an order directly from him. They never defied him, or ignored him for days at a time only to come back and try to patch things up, try to stay devoted and fill in their duties as a wife.
Not like Sakura does.
And yet, something in her eyes changes, and she accepts his hand right before he's about to take it back. With a quiet sigh of relief, he places his hands around her waist, lifts her up, and puts her back down on the ground a second later.
As his sigh turns to one of defeat, he looks down at her and doesn't take away his hands from her small waist as he thinks his words through. And for a long time, that's how they stay.
She's forced to look up at him and into his eyes, and she doesn't like it one bit.
"I'll make sure someone goes out and fetches new garments for you, if that is what you want. We should do this again as soon as they have them ready."
And she looks so tiny directly in front of him, in his arms, craning her neck up to look at him with those big, beautiful green eyes of hers. So rare but so, so captivating. So tiny, so harmless and delicate, that it seems rather stupid to think someone like this could also defy everything he has come to know in just about a few years' time.
Sasuke watches as his statement catches her off-guard, and she blinks for a few seconds up at him until she has the time to process his helpful, benevolent words fully.
But then, she only nods and looks down between their bodies, deeming this the end to their conversation and distancing herself like never before. It unsettles him slightly, making him let go of her waist but still making him unable to speak any further. And for just a moment, he feels the sudden urge to apologise; as if he's truly guilty and has to redeem himself; as if he has to admit that he was wrong, and make it up to her somehow.
But he wasn't, and he isn't. His reasons are his reasons, and he's perfectly fine with Sakura being upset about it only because it's all for her own protection. He cannot take any unnecessary risks with her or with his nation, and so if he cut all connection with her mentor, it was for her own good. He had to do what he had to do, and he doesn't expect her to understand.
If her silence and passive shift in personality toward him bothers him, there's nothing he can do about it as he looks at her one last time before he turns and leaves the scene.
.
.
.
Sakura has to wait a total of three days for both Kabuto and Sasuke to be out of the castle's premises—one for supplies and the other for meetings, she can only guess.
She holds no shame as she walks toward Kabuto's house in the middle of the day, quickly so as to not take much time and risk herself further.
Once inside, she moves with ease and notices that, other than new vials and experiments on his tables, there is nothing different about the place. And to her puzzlement, the small bottle of oil has not changed in quantity since the last time she checked. That, or the change is so minimal she can't tell with certainty.
A thousand implications and possibilities run through her head as she processes this information, something she has wanted to check for such a long time. She's back to square one now.
With a sigh, she puts the bottle exactly how it was before on the shelf and looks around the place. It has been such a long time since she's set foot inside, she had forgotten Sasuke's cat frequents the hut ever so often. It sleeps by the window, as usual, and she smiles with a tinge of nostalgia at the memory.
Then she hears the guards raising their voices from over at the entrance of the castle, hears the incredibly large door open slowly with their strength, and stops smiling altogether.
Either Sasuke or Kabuto is back, and all she can think about is how she has to leave now. She gives a glance to the shelf and makes sure everything is in place, then rushes to the door as if someone was following her, only to hear a sound under her.
Something creaks in a way she has never heard before. And even though she has no time to start investigating anything when the doors to the castle have opened and someone has already arrived, she still goes back and retraces her steps, and she still hears the same hollow creak again.
Now that she can trust no one, her interest is definitely piqued. It wouldn't do to stay here and follow her intuition, but the not knowing would also be eating her alive if she doesn't check.
Kabuto's cottage is a few minutes from the entrance. If it's Kabuto, she has at least five minutes before he gets here. If it's Sasuke, she has way more time before he realises she's not inside the castle, per se.
Sakura wastes no time. There is simply no way of knowing who is here.
She moves fast as she goes to one end of the living room and grabs the thick rug, rolling it down the floor until she sees a square carved on the wooden floor.
She pauses for a second, frowning at the idea of a door on the floor the size of a child if he were to lie down along its expanse. There's a thin, iron latch on one side, and she doesn't hesitate as soon as she spots it as she keeps rolling the rug. She grabs it and pulls on it without thinking it twice, opening it after a few seconds struggling.
And there is nothing inside.
She looks down at the large expanse of nothingness that lies inside, a seemingly endless black void in the ground; a dark, humid, large hole in the floor that seems to lead nowhere—until she notices a set of grey stairs on one side that seem to go down into what only she can assume is some kind of lair, or a secret room. Not that she can investigate any further than she already has, at least not in her predicament.
She puts everything back together and leaves before she can get caught, heart racing and hands sweaty at what a black hole that leads somewhere is doing inside Kabuto's house, and why she hadn't noticed before.